


In Due Time

by dotcom (dipshitHarlequin)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Basically John Is A Ghost With A Hankering For Friends And Dave Thinks Washington Sucks Ass, Communication Through Letters, Death By Suicide, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, M/M, Psychic Abilities, They Get Along, Tw; NSSI And Eventual Suicide, ghost!John, paranormal activity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dipshitHarlequin/pseuds/dotcom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving is fucking terrible, and moving all the way across the country is even worse.<br/>Dave bitches about it for a while, but it doesn't take too long for him to find a couple of interesting things about his new house.<br/>Specifically, a stack of letters.<br/>But the date on them is a little off.<br/>As in, the most recent one was written yesterday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

At one point or another, a young man stood in his bedroom. He probably had a birthday, and he probably celebrated it just like anyone else, and he was very normal, and his life was very normal.  
At one point or another, this boy found himself in a terrible place. He was lonely, and there was no one who would befriend him. He and his father alike were very secluded, even from each other, and this boy was not content with his lonliness.   
He hated it.  
He hated himself.  
At one point, or more accurately, very many, he would lay alone in his dark, dark bedroom and his once-bright eyes would spill over and wet his cheeks and he'd let his little razorblades kiss his skin.   
With every passing day their kisses grew to nips, and nips to bites, until his arms were more scar than skin and red was his new favorite color.  
No one looked, no one cared, and there was no one there for him, just as there had never been.  
There was no one in his room when his blades weren't the only things glinting in the darkness.  
There was no one to talk him down when he could taste the rust on the barrel.  
There was no one to offer proper burial to his body when he was found the next morning. His father left without looking back, leaving his body to simply be thrown away.  
At one point or another, a young boy killed himself in the house that has been empty ever since.  
But ten years and seven realtors later, the "For Sale" sign is taken down.


	2. Chapter 2

He should have known you were going to whine, whatwith how opposed you were to this stupid fucking move in the first place. You literally kiss your apartment goodbye, making a big show of whispering to the door and hiking your leg and everything. Your name is Dave Strider, and you don't want to leave Texas.  
You don't want to have to forget the park down the street where you took your first steps and broke your first bone, or the schools you attended until this, your freshman year, or the cramped but lovely penthouse that you've called home since day one. Your name is Dave Strider, and you don't want to give away your childhood.  
You don't want Texas to become nothing but parts of pictures and blurred memories, you want Texas to eternally be as vivid and real as it presently is.  
Your brother however, couldn't seem to care less for the place.  
It makes sense, considering he's traveled the world over and over again on buisness and seen places that make good old Houston look like a nasty little booger on the corner of the Atlas pages, but you've always stayed behind with nannies or family or friends, and to you, Houston is the whole world.  
You'd long since learned to turn the emotion of sadness into anger, and it was second nature to you, never being sad. And you weren't, you weren't sad, not now and not since the third grade when Britanny Pritchett threw your letter away at the class Valentine's Day party, the bitch.  
You aren't sad.  
But you're worlds of pissed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ii told myself the chapters would be long for this one but ii lied,, they'll get longer as the story progresses but my eye for detail can't really sharpen until ii've built shit up and gotten really into it etcetcetc iim stupid bye


End file.
